


no one taught us how to fight

by gavorn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 19:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gavorn/pseuds/gavorn
Summary: Cole and Krem and a campfire in the Hissing Wastes.





	no one taught us how to fight

He moves fast, but not so fast Cole can’t keep up; when he sees Cole watching he stops, pauses, waits. Lets him think. Doesn’t rush him. 

It’s nice.

He needs a haircut, Cole notices, reaching out to comb his fingers through disheveled hair. He’s normally insistent on keeping it cropped, but they’ve been on the road for almost three weeks now, and Cole knows he’s considered it but he refuses to let Bull trim it for him. It’s not that he doesn’t trust him, but  _ fucker would probably write a message, not making that mistake again _ , and the memory has a smile on his face. Cole can’t help but smile too - for the memory, which is lovely, but also because he’s here, and he’s happy that Krem is happy. 

“I could do it,” he says, and Krem doesn’t startle like everyone else does when they realize he’s been listening. “You could,” he says, closing his eyes, relaxing into Cole’s fingers like a cat. “You’re brilliant like that.”

It’s an insignificant comment, but it makes Cole’s stomach hurt a little all the same. He’s fairly sure it does, at least - he’s still not fantastic at this human thing, but he’s been improving. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take him. He’s scared to find out.

“Hey, you,” Krem says, voice just harsh enough to cut into Cole’s fog, but still affectionate. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” Cole murmurs. Krem turns his head, lets his cheek rest on Cole’s thigh. His words are muffled by the thin leather of Cole’s pants. 

“Don’t be,” he says easily. “We’re good.” He makes everything sound so normal. Like they’re just people, not a soldier and a - a -

Krem’s hand snakes over before Cole notices and pinches down hard on his calf. 

“Ow,” Cole says. 

“Serves you right.” 

“For what?” He makes it sound as pitiful as he can, mostly because he was halfway there already. 

“You know what.”

“I don’t!” 

Krem thinks quickly, quickly enough that Cole can’t always predict what he’s going to do. He twists to support his own weight and easily reaches out and shoves Cole off the bench, toppling him into the sand with a squawk. 

“Ow!”

“Get out of your damn head,” Krem says, too smug. He’d look the picture of composure with his elbow bracing his weight like some classical painting if not for the subtle flush on his cheeks. Whether it’s from his laughter or being too close to the fire or - impossible, Cole would think, if he didn’t know it was true, from  _ Cole _ , he’s not sure. The fondness in his eyes is enough incentive, and Cole takes the opportunity to grab his arm and pull him down so they’re tangled together in the cold, dry sand. 

Krem giggles. He doesn’t often, thinks it sounds too feminine, but there are moments he can’t help it, and Cole likes those. He likes them even more when he’s caused them. 

“I take it back,” Krem says, faux-scowling. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my hair with a knife, you bastard.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Hush,” he says. He’s smiling again. “You’re awful,” and he presses closer, “And I hate you,” he breathes against Cole’s neck, and Cole yelps when cold fingers go up his shirt. He should’ve expected it, really. Krem does this often, fingers tracing Cole’s ribs, reaching up to trace his collarbone. He’s quiet when he does this, mind a steady, quiet stream of soft words and blurry images Cole can’t quite make out. He doesn’t know that he would if he could - it’s almost too much, too close to being an intrusion, which is an odd feeling. He’s seen and heard so much from other people without feeling guilty, but somehow it’s different when they’re centered on himself. 

Krem has already given Cole so much of himself. Cole cannot bring himself to take more, not when it’s not being offered, even if he knows he could have it if he asked. 

 

Everyone’s asleep. 

Theoretically, they’re on watch, but since clearing out the last of the Venatori the Wastes have been quiet. Grim’s still up, somewhere - he vanishes, but he’s always around at the first sign of trouble. Krem’s grateful for him, Cole knows, glad that it’s him and not any of the other Chargers, not that he doesn’t love them but he knows they’d give him trouble for a display of affection like this and he doesn’t want anything to keep him from -  _ oh _ \- from gently pressing his lips to Cole’s neck. 

He doesn’t know how anyone does it when they can’t feel it like this, can’t read exactly what Krem wants when his breath hitches or when he says  _ “there. _ ” It’s almost too much, the feelings coming from both directions, the want meeting the want and sparking so it’s all Cole can think of, can feel, can know. He scrapes his teeth along Cole’s jaw, and it’s overwhelming, and Cole breathes “Stop.” 

He does so, immediately. They’re at a place now where he doesn’t retreat with anxiety, just gently withdraws and waits for Cole’s brain to catch up with his body. He doesn’t rush him, doesn’t press, just waits, familiar weight beside him like an anchor, keeping him grounded, keeping him human. 

“Okay,” Cole says, once his heart has slowed back down, once he doesn’t feel like he’s falling out of his body again. Krem’s hand returns, cupping Cole’s face. 

When he kisses him, it’s gentle. He always is at first. Cole wraps his fingers around Krem’s wrist, kisses back harder, thinks  _ you’re not going to break me _ like there’s a chance he’ll hear it. He must get the message across, because he bites down on Cole’s lip, pushes him so he’s lying flat on his back. 

“We’re supposed to be on watch,” he says, breathless.

“Bull’s done worse on watch,” Cole counters, and Krem laughs even as he grinds his hips down into Cole’s. 

He wrinkles his nose briefly. “Don’t bring up the Chief,” he complains, “You’re killing my cock.” 

“Sorry,” Cole says. He isn’t, not really. Krem’s answering grin says that he knows as much.

“You’re insufferable.” He’s still beaming, though. Cole wants so badly to kiss the grin off his face that he can’t tell if the image is coming from himself or Krem. He doesn’t think it matters, not really. 

But Krem squirms away, grabs him by the wrists and yanks him upright instead. He’s difficult to predict but easy to understand, and it’s unlike anyone Cole’s encountered before. 

“Come on,” he says, responding to Cole’s unvoiced question. “Time to switch shifts, I think.” He leads them back to the tents, and Cole follows willingly. “Dalish,” he whispers into an open flap. “Dalish!” 

Her eyes are almost luminous in the dark. It’s a little spooky. “What?” she hisses. “I’m not on duty til morning.” 

“No,” Krem says, “But Skinner is.” 

In the dim firelight, Cole sees Dalish raise an eyebrow. “You’re still refusing to wake her up?” 

“She hit me!” Krem insists. “I had a black eye for a fortnight!” 

Dalish rolls her eyes, but rouses Skinner beside her, who crawls out. She pauses and gives Krem and Cole’s clasped hands a look of what seems to be begrudging approval. She’s hard to listen to. Cole knows she’s hurting, but he can’t quite see enough to understand. Someday he’ll help her, if she trusts him to. He hopes she will. 

Dalish goes back to sleep, and Krem pulls them back to an unoccupied tent. There’s sand everywhere, but the blankets are still soft, and Krem’s comfortingly warm when he strips from his armor and lies down, arms stretched invitingly. Cole doesn’t go to him yet, though, taking a moment to watch, to absorb the moment. This isn’t somewhere he’d ever thought he’d be, but it’s better, he thinks. He knows it is. 

“Come on,” Krem complains, so Cole goes. He snuggles close, lets himself be held. Part of him wants more, but for the moment he’s exhausted - he’d never understood how much sleep people needed until he was one. He hears a contented hum from where his head is tucked in Krem’s throat, and he inhales slowly. 

He means to stay awake longer, he really does. 


End file.
